


Read Me Like One of Your French Books

by PrincessDianaArtemis



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Anathema Device Ships Aziraphale/Crowley, Artist Crowley (Good Omens), Attempted Seduction, Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Tease (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Coming Untouched, Crowley & Anathema Device Friendship, Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Strength Kink (Good Omens), Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Frottage, Good Friend Anathema Device, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, I've been sucked into this phenom, Librarian Aziraphale (Good Omens), Library Sex, M/M, Matchmaker Anathema Device, Mutual Pining, Peter Paul Rubens references, Porn Tropes, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Slutty Crowley, Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), Thick Aziraphale, Thirsty Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Women's Underwear, cock riding, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessDianaArtemis/pseuds/PrincessDianaArtemis
Summary: Inspired by the twitter thread of cliche porn tropes.Crowley joins Anathema at the library where she's spending endless days researching for her thesis and he's transcendentally bored...that is until he sees the librarian.Suddenly, all he wants is to be thrown over the reference desk and shown a thing or two about books.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Comments: 33
Kudos: 302
Collections: Ineffablexxx - Directors Cut, Top Aziraphale Recs





	1. Chapter 1

When Anathema asked him to keep her company as she finished the research for her thesis, Crowley expected them to be in the ancient library for no more than a couple of days.

He was wrong.

Anathema’s two days was quickly turning into endless hours with books stacked in high-rises around her, books thicker than a normal read should be and - ‘ _I swear that one is made from human skin_ ’.

Usually, he wouldn’t mind being dragged on Anathema’s research because it included spooky areas of England and talking with locals that were usually a good laugh afterwards, but this had been nothing but ancient texts and the matronly librarian that loved the young woman and hated him.

“I think she’s just jealous of your dastardly good looks, Crowley,” said Anathema when he’d brought it up. “Besides, Miss Hedge is old and only takes two shifts out of the week. Usually it’s someone else that’s around. I have a feeling you’ll like them.”

Crowley expected another Miss Hedge, perhaps the nicer twin sister that would give him sweets and let him catnap behind the reference desk, motherly but not reeking of Trunchbull energy. What he wasn’t expecting on day four of their trip to the library was to find the most perfect, Rubenesque man he’d ever seen lifting a stack of books in his palm like it was nothing. When he turned around and saw Anathema, the soft cheeks pulled into a wide beam, the stack never wavering.

“Dear girl, I was hoping to catch you here,” he said, posh lilt to his voice making Crowley whine. “I brought some books from my own collection that might be of use to your research.”

Anathema glanced over at Crowley, smirking when she saw the unhinged jaw and the thin circle of iris, “Thank you so much Aziraphale. I’d like you to meet my friend, Crowley. Crowley, this is Aziraphale — my favorite librarian.”

The angelic librarian, turned to him and his bright, kaleidoscope eyes ran over his body, from the crest of his hair down to the tip of his pointy, snakeskin shoe and Crowley fought off the delighted shiver it brought.

“Nice to meet you, dear,” he said, finally bringing his eyes up to his. “Come this way. I’ve got some shelving to do in the back of the library.”

~~O~~

Thus began Crowley’s new love of the library.

Anathema always chose a table close to the reference desk claiming it was the best way to know when one of her books were returned so she could snatch it up. Now, Crowley was sure it was just a way to make sure he was humiliated even further.

That first day, following Aziraphale to that very same desk and seeing him bend over it to reach Anathema’s books, pressing his neat trousers against the ample and perfectly rounded arse and thighs, was a nightmare. A nightmare that had then turned into a reoccurring dream and fantasy that Crowley wasn’t proud to admit included those same thighs pinning him against the reference desk with a rhythmic in-and-out of a cock inside him.

Crowley had made it his goal to goad the man into any semblance of attraction — sitting and leaning against tables and chairs in a way that he knew pressed his trousers tight against his arse and drew attention up his legs. He’d caught the hazel eyes of his heart’s desire exactly where he wanted them — but with nothing coming from those heated looks.

Now, seeing Aziraphale sitting behind his desk with his round glasses on the tip of his nose as he perused a book of his own, too many new ideas blossomed in his head of straddling that broad lap and grinding himself to completion while Aziraphale kept his composure and continued to read his book.

“You’re a real witch, you know that,” he muttered, watching the man roll his shirtsleeves up to his elbows and start on his third skill — book mending.

Anathema pulled her tired eyes away from the book she’d been skimming over and followed his gaze towards the librarian, “It’s not my fault you’re a slut with anxiety and can’t even muster up the courage to either ask him on a date or offer to suck him off.”

“Ana,” hissed Crowley, looking around and making sure that Aziraphale hadn’t heard. “I am an _artist_ and you presented me painter’s perfection.”

She gave a low snort, “Then do what you’re great at and draw, you heathen. Go get a book on Rubens or something and see how you can perfectly capture _that_ image.”

That image being Aziraphale haloed in the sunlight breaking through the large windows of the room, white curls glowing and the light rounding every curve and muscle like the sun itself wanted to caress the man. He’d never been so jealous of a star.

Grumbling, Crowley got up and sauntered over to the reference desk, steps loosing their traction as the angel looked up and smiled bright at him.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale said, straightening up. “How can I help you?”

Was it too forward to ask him to bend him over the desk and pound him into the next millennia? Crowley thought so. Instead, he cleared his throat.

“Can you direct me to the art books — wanted to look over some of Rubens’ work today,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as croaky as he felt he sounded.

Aziraphale’s soft-looking, manicured hands travelled down his chest and tugged at the hem of his sweater, bringing Crowley’s eyes down with them and then honing in on the bulge in the man’s trousers.

_For Satan’s sake, that’s a hose if I ever saw it._

“Right,” said Aziraphale, waving him to the right. “Come with me. I’ll show you some of his books that will have you drooling over every brushstroke.”

Crowley bit his lip to keep himself from letting out a pathetic whine at the ‘drooling’ and ‘stroke’ choosing to follow him between the shelves. Instead, he scanned over the width if his shoulders pressing tight against his sweater vest and how every step highlighted the globes of his asscheeks.

“Lets see here,” said Aziraphale, stopping before a bookshelf and Crowley crashes into him, getting to feel those delicious curves against his front.

Crowley spluttered an apology that was brushed off with a smile, “I’m going to have climb up there to get them. Wait here, darling.”

He slid the ladder over and climbed up a few rungs to pull a couple tomes out from their prison. Which put Crowley in a glorious, if extremely tempting, position with the forbidden fruit at bite level. And even worse when the perched man turned and the mouth-level delicacy was the bulge that might be a little larger than before.

“Peter Paul Rubens for your,” Aziraphale trailed off as he saw the rapt attention Crowley had on his khakis, “for your perusal.”

Crowley licked his lips and dragged his gaze up to the pinked cheeks and the heavenly vision above him.

“Good lord,” muttered Aziraphale and licked his own lips.

One of the books in his grip slipped and broke them out of the spell as Crowley stumbled to catch it and giving Aziraphale the opening to climb down.

“Here you are dar— _Crowley_ , enjoy.”

Crowley sighed, brushing his fingers as he took the books from him, “Thanks, angel.”

He slunk back to Anathema and plopped down with a groan.

“Made a fool of yourself didn’t you?”

He didn’t respond, just opened the book, pulled out a sketchbook and poured over drawing the soft curves he couldn’t sink his teeth into.

~~O~~

It was breaking midnight by the time Crowley arrived to the library the following night. Anathema had borrowed his bag — _with_ his sketchbook inside it. He knew the library closed at midnight and he hoped that it was Aziraphale closing — if only because Miss Hedge would refuse to let him in after closing to get his book.

To his luck, he caught a glimpse of the halo of white curls illuminated by the street-lamps.

“Angel, thank goodness it’s you.”

The man turned and beamed, “Crowley! Dear boy, what are you doing here at such an hour?”

“Anathema left my bag when she was in today. I was hoping you’d let me go in and get it. It has my sketchbook in it.”

“Of course, dearest,” he said, cracking open the door and sweeping him in. “Come in.”

Crowley tried not to focus on the warmth that the close proximity between them caused as he went to Anathema’s usual spot and searched for his black messenger bag. Then, when he didn’t find it, went over to the reference desk and there, underneath the stack of huge, old books was his bag.

“Ah, gotcha,” he said, reaching over the desk and tried to pull the bag towards him, unable to tug it free. “Damn it.”

“Crowley, is everything alright?”

“Just...it’s stuck underneath these ancient books.”

“Here, let me help.”

With a hand landing on his waist for balance, Aziraphale reached around him, chest pressing against his back, and with a sharp tug that barely disturbed the books, released his bag. The shift onto his tiptoes to get a better grip rubbed fabric against his ass and the tightening of the hand around him forced the moan he was trying to swallow down to spill from his lips.

He turned, just enough to catch a glimpse of the dilated pupils that swallowed the hazel of Aziraphale’s eyes. Testing the waters he pushed his hips back, rubbing against the now hardening bulge and a growl caught in Aziraphale’s throat before the man dropped his head against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Darling,” he said, turning his elfin nose so his hot breath fanned over Crowley’s collarbones. “I hope you understand what you’re starting.”

“Angel,” said Crowley, grinding back once again. “I’ve wanted you to pin me to his desk and have your heavenly way with me since I first laid eyes on you.”

Teeth brushed against the spot the warm breath had been and the low murmur against his neck, “I’m so happy that I wasn’t wanking off to you without it being reciprocated. Watching you spread out like a common whore on every flat surface in this library and having to hold back from taking you and making a mess of every table and shelf.”

Another moan as Crowley ducked down to take Aziraphale’s mouth in a searing kiss. Their lips slid together in wet, desperate kisses and the hand that was once holding his bag came around to slide down his chest and to the low-rise waistband of his jeans. Those clever fingers danced over his aching groin and his hips pressed him tighter against the desk.

“May I?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Crowley said, a mantra that melted into a whine as his fly was undone and Aziraphale slipped his hand past the waistband and fondled him over the fabric of his pants.

Aziraphale’s breath hitched, running a finger down the length of his cock, “Are these — are these satin? Oh, you naughty thing. Were you hoping to get caught like this? Pinned against a hard surface, a hand down your front, and a begging for a thick prick to take you from behind?”

“Only if it was you, oh — _Satan_ — only you,” he blabbered and pressed his ass harder against the long, thick warmth behind him.

With a tug, his jeans were pulled down, ass practically bare and pressing against the rough corduroy of Aziraphale’s trousers. The hand against his dick continued to slide down teasingly from tip to bollocks and then back up while from behind, Aziraphale ground his delicious length into the crease of his arse, driving Crowley mad.

“I want you in my mouth, please, I _need_ you in my mouth.”

The teasing hand skimmed higher, up and under his shirt to tweak a nipple, “You beg so nicely. Get on your knees beautiful boy.”

Crowley dropped so quickly he was sure his knees would be sore from how hard he hit the wooden floor, but he didn’t care as he spun around and pressed his cheek against the plushness of those mouthwatering thighs and nosing against the zipper.

“God, I want to suffocate between these,” he said, unzipping and pulling trousers and pants down enough to release the object of his curiosity. His mouth watered as the thick length, already hard and flushed, sprung at his face, precum leaking from the slit. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Look at this. I’m going to be gagging on this.”

“Do you want me to fuck those pretty lips,” asked Aziraphale, running his thumb over Crowley’s lips, parting them and slipping it to wet the tip before his hand came up to tangle in Crowley’s hair.

“Fuck yes.”

He took his prick in one hand and the handful of hair in the other, “Open up, dearheart.”

Crowley obeyed and let Aziraphale feed him the inch by inch of his cock until the tip hit the back of his throat. The moan ripped out of Aziraphale’s throat vibrated through his body and traveled into Crowley’s mouth. He bobbed his head, drool dripping down his chin as he sucked and bobbed to the rhythm that the hand in his hair set.

Praise fell from Aziraphale’s lips as he fucked into Crowley’s mouth, wicked tongue wrapping around his throbbing member, his free hand coming down to feel the shape of his cock in Crowley’s throat. Crowley, for his part, took the opportunity to grab handfuls of the arse he so desperately wanted to touch and pulled Aziraphale deeper so the man could get a good feel of himself down the long stretch of his throat.

Suddenly, he pulled Crowley off and Aziraphale bent over to lick into his mouth for another kiss, “I want to come inside you, darling. I want to feel you squeeze me to completion.”

He took Crowley’s moan and the enthusiastic kiss he got in return as acceptance and helped the wiry man back to his feet, “Come, you gorgeous thing. Get me all nice and wet so I can get you ready to take me.”

The fingers he put against his lips was greedily sucked in, lathed in saliva just as his prick had been, while Aziraphale pressed bruising kisses down Crowley’s neck and pressed a bite to the jut of his collarbones. Aziraphale hitched one of Crowley’s legs up and perched it on the desk as his spit-wet fingers travelled down and circled his rim. He swallowed the moan from Crowley’s lips as he breached the tight pucker of muscles and the searing heat and clench swallowed the thick finger.

“You’re so tight,” panted Aziraphale, finger sliding in and out in shallow pumps. “Gonna need a lot more if you’re gonna take me.”

Crowley couldn’t talk as another finger joined the first, following the initial rhythm and then scissoring him a little wider. He panted into Aziraphale’s mouth as he took him apart with yet another finger in.

“I’m ready, dear _someone_ I need you in me, now.”

“Such an impatient thing you are,” Aziraphale said, “but I’ll give you what you want. Turn around. You wanted me to take you over this desk, correct?”

As Crowley scrambled to comply, he reached desperate, clawed fingers towards the black messenger bag, “Satan you’ll kill me. My bag, angel, there’s some lube and condoms.”

Aziraphale chuckled and placed a kiss on Crowley’s shoulder, “My, someone hoped to get lucky soon. Should I be jealous or flattered?”

Crowley moaned as Aziraphale’s fingers, still inside him, curled into a delicious position,” Flattered, gah, definitely flattered. Please, angel —“

Aziraphale pressed another kiss onto his shoulder as he rolled the condom on, lubed his prick, and lined up, “Of course my impatient little slut, you’re gonna take me nice and slow first, love.”

Painfully slow, Aziraphale pressed into the velvet heat of Crowley’s hole, taking a moment to get used to the suction around him before he bottomed out. A pleasured whine slipped Crowley’s mouth as he pushed back only to be held in place by a strong hand on his back.

“You’ll take what I give you, when I give it to you and nothing else. Do you understand?”

The tone brought another desperate whine out of Crowley, “Yes angel, anything you say. Please, please, _please_.”

Satisfied, Aziraphale pulled out, slow and deliberate with shallow thrusts until only the head was inside Crowley, then, with a final kiss on his neck as a warning, slid back, fully-seated, and began pounding in earnest.

“You take me so well, you gorgeous thing. So tight, swallowing me up in this pert little arse of yours. Next time, I want to open you up with my tongue. Would you like that?”

Crowley found purchase on the edge of the desk, black polished nails scratching at the smooth wood as babbling sounds poured from his lips when Aziraphale hit a pleasurable spot. His litany of moans echoed in the vast darkness of the library and harmonized with the grunts and coos from the angel lifting him higher and higher onto the desk. He soon found himself pressed tight against the surface, his own trapped cock getting sweet friction just from the movements behind him.

“Oh, _fuck_ , I’m gonna cum, angel. Can I come, please, _please—“_

“Of course, my darling boy,” said Aziraphale, biting down and pulling on Crowley’s lobe. “Cum for me, dearheart, I want to see you fall apart.”

With a final choked sound, Crowley came across the surface of the reference desk, splattering the dark wood with his release. Aziraphale’s own thrusts were starting to lose its musicality, growing erratic until he too came with a satisfied grunt and pressed his full weight against Crowley’s back, kisses laid along the freckles of his shoulders.

When the strength returned to their limbs, Aziraphale pushed himself up and out of Crowley’s arse, leaving him feel empty and cold. A handkerchief was caressed over his still warm flesh to clean him up while soft kisses across his clavicle and exposed stomach joined the party.

“My wonderful, seductive beauty,” Aziraphale muttered between kisses. “So good to me, so sweet. I hope I lived up to your expectations.”

Crowley let out a little laugh, “Angel, I’m not religious, but that was the closest I’ve ever been to heaven.”

He took the opportunity to capture Aziraphale’s mouth in a long and languid kiss, pulling away, he added, “Next time I wanna ride you in your chair while you ignore me in exchange for reading one of your books.”

The light in Aziraphale’s eyes brightened, “Oh good, so there _will_ be a next time.”

The expression softened Crowley’s own, “Of course, you’re a whole wet dream with this whole sexy librarian thing you got going, but you’re not just a fantasy. You deserve chocolates and dinner. What do you say? Dinner on Friday and then we come back here to enact another one of our raunchy fantasies?”

The lovestruck expression in Aziraphale’s eyes was juxtaposed by the sneaky expression on his mouth.

“Sounds like a date. I can’t wait to see you bouncing on my cock afterwards. Now, I believe it’s very late and _some_ of us have to return early in the morning and make sure everything is tidy before people come in,” he said, helping button Crowley back up.

They shared a final, searing kiss at the doors of the library before parting ways with the promise of their upcoming date.

~~O~~

But if the following morning Aziraphale left a lubed fingerprint where only he could see and be reminded of what was to come, well, only he would know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little follow up where Crowley makes nice on his offer involving a chair and a book.

Golden light illuminated the words of Aziraphale’s latest read, a book that mapped and defined constellations and star patterns that he’d recently been fascinated with ever since seeing the freckles across Crowley’s back. A breathy whine brought his attention away from the book briefly, glasses catching the lamplight on the lens as he turned to the scene beyond the page.

That same gold light lit the fine hairs on Crowley’s sweat-glistened chest, a chiaroscuro of sharp angles and flat planes from the head tilted back in rapture down to the desperate curl of his toes along Aziraphale’s calves.

It had been forty minutes since the two of them had arrived to the dark and empty library from their long-awaited dinner date. They had drank two and a half bottles of vintage wine —bought by Aziraphale — and a nice dinner of coq au vin — Crowley’s treat — that gifted him with the most obscene sounds out of his date’s mouth. They’d foregone dessert as nothing was as temptingly delicious as what they had planned.

It had been thirty-nine minutes from when they’d entered into the darkness towards the reference desk. There, Aziraphale had turned on the lamp, pulled out the book, and taken a seat in his chair.

“Strip.”

A command.

And a shiver that ran down the length of Crowley’s traitorous spine.

Crowley hastened to comply as he slipped off his sunglasses first, setting them down on the desk with a quiet clatter. Then, with slow and deliberate moves and keeping his gaze on the lust-hungry look in Aziraphale’s eyes, he stripped every piece of clothing off, letting his long fingers trail down the path of newly revealed skin.

When he got down to his undergarment — a pair of flimsy lace panties that left nothing to the imagination and stained with his hardened and damp arousal — Aziraphale spoke.

“That’s enough,” he said in a dark, gravelly tone. Then he patted his lap. “Come here you gorgeous thing. Sit on my lap, darling.”

The sight of Aziraphale’s strong thighs and calves flexing to prevent the chair from rolling around almost undid Crowley, but he turned his focus instead on the hands on his hips that helped settle him down, straddling that broad lap.

He took in the juxtaposition of him being completely exposed, flushed skin aglow from the beacon of his lamp, while the angel below him was perfectly unruffled and dressed from the perfect bow of his tie to his shined shoes.

“Now, you’re gonna be good for me and get yourself off without distracting me from my book,” said Aziraphale, running soft fingers through Crowley’s hair before giving it a little tug. “But don’t be too eager, make it last, because I’m not fucking you until _I’m_ good and ready.”

Crowley affirmed with a languid roll of his body over Aziraphale’s plush, muscular form and settled into a healthy rhythm, sliding up and down the heat of his crotch and loving the burn of corduroy against his thighs and exposed arse.

That has been thirty minutes ago and Crowley had been brought down from the brink twice already by a distracted Aziraphale who hadn’t even looked up from his reading as he reached down between them and brought him down from his high with a pinch behind his balls. Then he gave a soothing caress down his side.

The high-pitched whines and pants echoed in the cavernous darkness of the library as Crowley continued his sensuous grind against the engorging bulge in Aziraphale’s trousers. The corduroy was already damp with the evidence of his desperation, but he continued to rub himself against the only indication that the angel was as affected as he was.

It was this latest whine that brought the blown-pupil hazel eyes back towards him, “Angel, I want — I can’t—”

Aziraphale let out a little coo, free hand coming out to run up his chest and tweak one nipple, then the other, and then his hand trailed down and wrapped his cock in the warmth of his large hand, “Of course, love, you’ve been so, _very_ good. Let’s finish you up — for now.”

With a series of well-placed tugs, pumps, and twists, Crowley came undone in Aziraphale’s grip, covering his hand and dark-blue sweater with streaks of white. He lifted the hand up to his mouth, meeting Crowley’s heady expression as he cleaned the digits with kitten licks and one hearty suck.

“Such a good boy,” he said, pulling Crowley closer to lick into his mouth and he tasted the sweet tang of the wine with the salty accompaniment of his release. “So well-behaved and so, _so_ good. Would you like to ride my cock now?”

Crowley moaned into Aziraphale’s shoulder as the thick fingers stroked down his back, to his hips, and lower. He palmed his arse in his large hands, cupping and massaging the pert curves and then running a finger down his crack until it hit the surprise he’d prepared. Both their breaths hitched as Aziraphale continued his stroking.

“Oh, my impatient slut,” he said, nibbling at Crowley’s collarbone. “Did you prep yourself for me? So desperate for my cock that you couldn’t wait for me to open you up — you’ve deprived me of that joy, but next time I’ll take you apart with my mouth. My sweet boy, reach into my pocket and give me what’s in there.”

While one of Aziraphale’s hands came back around to slide down Crowley’s stomach and released his own hard cock from confinement, Crowley pulled the bottle of lubricant and condom from his pocket.

“Would you like to prepare me while I get you ready, dearheart?”

The rip from the condom wrapper was answer enough as Aziraphale turned his attention into pulling the thick rubber plug out of Crowley’s stretched asshole and circled his thick fingers around the opening. Crowley shared his hoard of lube to pour down the fingers that then pumped in and out of him in a staccato rhythm until his long, thick prick was prepped and covered.

“Up now, let me get you nice and full.”

Just like their first time, Aziraphale used his amazing strength to direct Crowley to take him inch-by-inch, helping him down until Crowley was seated back in his lap and panting with desire.

“You’re so hot, my darling,” he said, running his hands down Crowley’s sides. “So tight. Go ahead — take your fill.”

With that encouragement, Crowley lifted himself up to where the thick length was almost completely out of him and then slammed down, their moans once again mingling with one another’s as he set his new rhythm. Aziraphale melted against him, hot breath fanning over his chest before his mouth closed around one of his nipples and sucked and nibbled and licked and then he moved on to the other. In his lap, Crowley bounced first in little shallow thrusts and then in longer slides that shook the chair and made it squeak under pressure.

He moaned against Crowley’s chest and slid a hand down between them, taking the newly-hard cock that curled against his stomach into his soft hand. He gave the velvet heat a few short pumps, steading Crowley with a hand on his hip.

“Stunning thing, cum for me again. Cum _with_ me,” moaned Aziraphale, little abandoned thrusts meeting Crowley’s descending arse until — almost in perfect unison — the two reached their peak.

Crowley made to drop his orgasm heavy body over Aziraphale’s but he stopped him with a single heavy hand on his chest and, with the free one, pulled off his sweater, wiped his hand clean and then let him go. He then moved the hand on his chest around to stroke the knobs of Crowley’s spine in gentling, smoothing strokes.

“You are amazing,” Crowley said when he caught his breath. “Mind-blowing. Never expected world-shattering orgasms from a librarian — but considering how fucking sexy you are I feel you’re the exception.”

Aziraphale chuckled, pressing a kiss to the crown of Crowley’s head, “And you, my delicious morsel, are deserving of all those orgasms and more.”

He swept the soft sweater down to catch the stray drops of cum and lube as he slipped his softened cock out of Crowley and kissed the unhappy whine that his lover made.

“Does this mean next time you’ll — what was it you said — take me apart with just your mouth?” Asked Crowley, punctuating his sentence with little teasing pecks over Aziraphale’s searching mouth.

“You’ve seen me eat, love. You know I can.”

They shared a laugh between kisses until the hand on Crowley’s back slowed, “We have to get up. I’m afraid this chair won’t hold our weight any longer.”

~~O~~

It was an hour and thirty-two minutes after they arrived that the couple emerged from the library, once again clothed and buttoned up, and sneaking kisses while they locked up.

“Well dearest,” said Aziraphale, nuzzling into Crowley’s long neck. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

Crowley winked, “If you can get your hands off me long enough. Otherwise, we might have to drag this date on longer.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Their eyes locked, wide shock and warm acceptance as Crowley eked out a ‘really’.

Aziraphale offered his arm, which was wrapped up in a long-fingered grip.

A nod.

And the two made their way down the street, walking close and disappearing into the dark inkiness of night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it feels like the end. 
> 
> Crowley gets his ass eaten like a champ and we get feelings involved.

Aziraphale and Crowley had been going on dates on and off for a couple of weeks and, though none of them had ended as spectacularly hot and heavy as their first one, neither of them were complaining. The two enjoyed each other’s company a lot, even beyond their adventurous, almost voyeuristic, experiences. 

Crowley loved Aziraphale’s wit and his bastard streak, especially when they’re out in public and someone makes an idiotic, homophobic comment that was struck down by the prim and biting man. He’s also wicked smart and big and strong, which more than once has thrown Crowley aback - and aroused him simultaneously. 

Aziraphale, for his part, loved the spark of mischief that propelled Crowley forward. He wasn’t overtly open with his own intelligence, but he matched Aziraphale’s intelligence on par. And of course, the man was sensuous and charming. And deserved to be spoiled to the ends of time.

The two of them were just too caught in their own anxiety to say anything to one another.

Anathema, the sly witch, teased Crowley relentlessly.

“So you’re in love with him,” she said, peeking up from her book, “and obviously it doesn’t hurt that he’s a beast of a lover.”

For his part, Crowley paled, “I - who said I’m in love with him?”

She raised an eyebrow, hiding it behind pushing her glasses up her nose, “You’ve been hanging out together almost everyday for the past - well, almost a month. You guys haven’t had sex since your first date,  _ hell _ , you haven’t even thought about kissing him. Face it, you’re head over heels for him and now you’re afraid that if you tell him, he’ll freak out and dump you.”

Again, Crowley opened his mouth to argue, then closed it and dropped his head, “You’re right. You’re so right. I’m going to lose my sexy angelic librarian and the chance to get my ass eaten by that naughty little mouth of his.”

Anathema shivered, “TMI, Tony, but trust me. He’s not gonna run away. Tell him.”

Aziraphale had a similar conversation with one of his rare friends, Madame Tracy. The Madame was not a traditional librarian, for one, she only worked the morning shifts so that after work she could go and do her -  _ other  _ duties.

“Dearie, if you have to ask, then you shouldn’t know,” she’d told Aziraphale when he asked what other duties included.

But the madame and Aziraphale fell into a nice friendship despite their age difference and he trusted her more than he did his own family. Which is why she was the first one he waxed poetry about Crowley to.

“Is it too early to say that I’m completely besotted with him?” asked Aziraphale, tapping on the rim of his teacup. “No one else has made me this happy, Madame.”

The woman gave a little coo, “Little dove, I’ve never seen you this pleased either. From what you tell me, you loved him from tip to tail. From his humour to the - how did you put it - ‘pert, handful of arse’?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed and he busied himself with the tray of biscuits between them, “Yes, well - I can’t complain about the couple of - ”

“Scenes?”

“-  _ encounters _ we’ve had.”

Tracy tittered behind her own cup and, once the cup was back down in it’s saucer, patted Aziraphale’s hand. 

“Tell him, duck. I have a feeling he’s just as mad about you.”

He huffed, “Another one of those ‘feelings’ of yours?”

She smiled, “That’s right. Now, c’mon, finish up, we have a few more books to shelve before I’m out of here.”

With a final gulp of his tea, Aziraphale helped the Madame up from her chair and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow before leading her back towards the circulation desk.

That night, Crowley drove Aziraphale to the restaurant they’d chosen for their date - a halfway point between their flats that would even the playing field of where they’d take their nightcap that evening. 

As always, Aziraphale paid for the wine and Crowley for the food - that he always let his angel choose since he was never much of a gourmand. They began the night catching up - Crowley talking about the newest landscape he’d been commissioned to do and Aziraphale about helping the intern - Newt - get the gall to talk to Anathema.

“Oh, good,” said Crowley, rolling his eyes. “Anathema won’t stop talking about the clumsy, cute guy from the library. She’s a little annoying.”

Aziraphale laughed, “We’d be luckier if we lock them in a room together and force Newt to talk - he’s intimidated by her beauty.”

“Careful, angel,” Crowley said, sipping from his wine. “I’ll be jealous if you keep talking about Ana’s beauty.”

He hid it behind the joking tone, but his stomach turned at the thought of Aziraphale’s eyes straying.

“Dearheart,” he said, running the tip of his shoe against Crowley’s black-clad legs. “Your friend is good-looking...but I’ve never seen anyone as gorgeous as you.”

The wine couldn’t whet his dry mouth enough as Aziraphale’s words hit him. A little shiver accompanied the smile he shot the lovestruck expression across him.

Dinner was quickly finished after that with little more talk about their monotonous life and the buzz of excitement for what was to come vibrated between them.

“Well, angel,” said Crowley, holding the door for the man to step out. “Your place or mine?”

Aziraphale sized him up and a playful smile curled his pouty mouth, “Temptation temptation. I would love to see you spread across my own bed, your hair would look lovely against the cream sheets,” he stopped to take in the pink across Crowley’s sharp cheekbones, “but I think I’d rather you not wake Mrs. Jorgens with the sounds I’ll pleasure out of you tonight and you’ve talked about the thick,” a hard swallow from the man across from him, “soundproof walls of your flat. So your place if you’re amenable.”

Crowley’s jaw had dropped open and he spluttered a string of vowels before pausing, taking a moment to swallow, and nodded, “Fuck, angel, you can’t  _ say _ things like that. But,  _ of course  _ I’m amenable.” 

He opened the passenger’s seat of his Bentley, “Get in, angel.  _ Please _ .”

As he slid past the quivering man, Aziraphale pressed a featherlight brush of a kiss on Crowley’s jaw, “I  _ do _ so love it when you beg.”

_ Lord, I know I don’t pray but - this man is gonna kill me. Let me at least make it through this amazing night. _

Crowley’s flat was mostly empty - a modern and stylish layout that allowed him the freedom to move around. Plants and paints were the most homey decor, as they spread around with splashes of color against the wall. Aziraphale took it in with amazed eyes both at the careful brushstrokes and the tall, proud greenery. 

“Oh, my dear, these are beautiful,” he said, reaching over to stroke a thumb over Crowley’s cheekbone. “ _ Almost _ as beautiful as you. May I kiss you, darling?”

He swallowed and nodded his head, pressing against the hand cupping his face and parting humming against Aziraphale’s lips when he brought them together. 

In the weeks that followed their first encounter, their kisses had moved from biting and consuming with the fear of losing these fleeting moments, to something soft and searing, soul-quenching.

This kiss was deep and romantic, with a sweep of Aziraphale’s tongue over his teeth that brought the taste of wine and the croquembouche into Crowley’s mouth. The hand on his cheek was gentle but the thick, pressing fingers against his hip were hard and insistent.

As they pulled away, Aziraphale ran his nose against the aquilian slope of Crowley’s and, punctuating with short, soft kisses asked, “Would you show me to your room, darling? I want to make sure you’re comfortable before getting to work.”

The full-body shiver wracked Crowley’s body and brought a smirk to Aziraphale’s lips where they pressed against the angular cheekbones.

“This way,” Crowley said, linking his long fingers with Aziraphale’s thick ones. 

The walkthrough of his flat was not long, just a few long stride, and made the anticipation curl in his stomach, both aroused and excited as his hand was squeezed. When he made it to the door of his bedroom, anxiety entered the mix, wondering if his spartan bedroom with his dark blue sheets and black framed bed would be to the man’s liking - be enough for the angelic being he’d brought home.

“I can hear you thinking, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, sidling closer to press a kiss behind Crowley’s ear, then again at his jaw, and a final one across his knuckles. “It’s okay, my dearest. You are everything that I need - none of the rest matters.”

He chuckled, “Do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Far from it, dearheart,” Aziraphale said. “But I don’t want you to think that you’re not enough. You are  _ more _ than enough.”

That was all Crowley needed to hear in order to turn around and seek out another kiss, wrapping one arm around Aziraphale’s neck as he reached behind with the other and turned the door handle to let them into his sanctuary. 

Aziraphale concerned himself with holding Crowley upright now that the lithe man was doing his best interpretation of a koala and climbing him, long legs locking around his plush waist.

“You’re an angel,” said Crowley, pulling away from their kiss to press gentler ones on his cheeks and down the bit of neck he could get to. “Soft, beautiful, angel -  _ Ssssatan _ , how I love you.”

He froze, mouth agape where he’d set to bite down on the soft expanse of skin. Against him, Aziraphale tensed and squeezed the thighs in his grasp. Crowley pulled away, eyes wide and panicked.

“An - Aziraphale. I’m sorry - I - ”

“Oh, my darling boy,” Aziraphale said, nuzzling into Crowley’s neck. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize. I love you so. I love you, my beloved.”

The shock was kissed off his face along with the nervousness smoothed by the gentle hand caressing his side. The knot in his stomach melted and fluttered into love as Crowley pulled Aziraphale back in for another kiss, longer and warmer until he was deposited onto his bed.

He bounced over the surface and looked up to see Aziraphale reaching down to take the hem of his shirt in his fingers. Black painted fingers stopped him mid-act, and when Aziraphale met his eyes, he frowned.

“Please, angel, let me.”

Aziraphale’s features softened and he reached out to take Crowley’s face in hand, “Who am I to deny such a request.”

He kneeled up on the bed, sneaking a hand under Aziraphale’s sweater and shirt, fingers exploring the expanse of skin he’d never seen bare, and pulled the pair over and off. Aziraphale’s curls fluffed at the action and made Crowley laugh before his attention was caught by the silver-grey hairs on Aziraphale’s chest that crawled down his belly and towards the edge of his waistband.

“Gorgeous,” Crowley said, leaning in to nuzzle against the furry chest and stomach, burying his hands against the love-handles and becoming pilant under the hands that landed in his hair.

And so they began, between caresses and kisses - and the off-handed bite to mark the flesh under their mouth as  _ theirs _ \- 

“Beautiful - ” an open-mouth kiss to Crowley’s freckles.

“Stunning - ” a bite at Aziraphale’s thighs and a low groan.

“My love - ” another bite, this time at the dimples of Crowley’s back, and the matching moan.

“ _ My _ love - ” a kiss, followed by a nip at Aziraphale’s shoulder.

In the process of their worship, clothes were shed piece-by-piece until they were pressed against each other, tasting the sweat and desire in their kisses. 

Crowley was pinned underneath Aziraphale’s more robust body as his large hands skirted over his chest, tweaking his nipples until he moaned in pleasure, then roamed lower catching on the red fuzz of hair along his body and down until his fingers met the lace straining against Crowley’s arousal.

“You stunning thing,” he said. “Remember my promise, what I said I’d do?”

Crowley whined and nodded, squirming under the tightening of Aziraphale’s thick fingers at the dip of his hip that was met with a kiss below his belly button.

“How do you want this? On your back, or stomach?”

“Back,” he said, hips arching towards the hovering face. “Please angel, I want to see your face. I wanna - I wanna see - ”

Aziraphale cut him off with a kiss pressed high on his inner thigh, “Of course, my beautiful. I want to see your face when you come apart.”

With one hand on his stomach to hold him in place, and the other inching the lace panties down the long legs, Aziraphale continued to press kisses on his thighs. His upturned nose brushed against Crowley's weeping cock, nuzzling against his aching bollocks before Aziraphale took one into his mouth.

“Ah,” cried Crowley, trying to buck up into the wet heat only to be held down by the strong arm on him. “Your  _ mouth _ .”

He glanced down and caught the glint of mischief in those hazel eyes as he moved over to take the other one with a string of saliva hanging from his mouth. Crowley whined and made aborted thrusts into his mouth that became an open-mouthed and silent cry when his tongue slithered down to his rim.

First, he flattened his tongue and lathered his puckered muscle with practiced licks and then as he began to loosen under the ministrations, Aziraphale penetrated him with a pointed tongue and proceeded to devour him the same way he did every meal.

Aziraphale slid up to cradle Crowley’s lower body in his arms, throwing his long and muscled legs over the breadth of his shoulder before diving in again, tightening his grip when the squirming underneath him began again. 

The wet, slurping noises of Aziraphale gorging himself on the exquisite meal before him melded with the high-pitched moans and cries of Crowley begging.

“Please, angel,  _ angel _ , touch me,” he cried, stopping around a groan when Aziraphale’s newly joined finger hit his prostate. “Please,  _ please _ .”

Around his legs, the grip tightened as Aziraphale slid higher up his body with searing kisses, “My love, you’re so gorgeous like this - flushed and so opened,” he slid in a pair of fingers into the spit-dripping hole and moved his mouth higher up to slip the red and dripping cock into his mouth.

Crowley bucked into Aziraphale’s mouth, “Love you love you love you won’t - ngk - won’t last - ” 

Aziraphale didn’t slow down, alternating between sliding Crowley’s cock deeper into his throat and twisting his fingers in to hit that sweet spot. 

With a  _ pop _ , Aziraphale pulled off, “Come for me, my dearest love.”

A final well placed twist had Crowley coming all over his chest, streaking the red fuzz with white stripes that Aziraphale lapped it up with long licks with his clever tongue and then kissed his way up to Crowley’s lips where they kissed in languid kisses that heated up quickly and made it apparent that there was still unfinished business between them.

“Let me, please love,” Crowley said, sliding a hand down to where Azirapahle’s prick prodded at his hip. He pressed kisses against the soft neck, biting at the flesh as it gave way under his teeth and tugged on the hardness against him. “Love you like this. Love you. Love how good you are. My angel, will you come for me, too?”

Aziraphale breathed heavily against Crowley’s collarbones, arching into those long fingers as he spilled against the already spent cock of his lover. Crowley lifted his come dripping fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean before pulling Aziraphale in for another kiss.

They laid there for a few minutes, just kissing and sliding their hands against each other’s bodies until the crusting of their spend started to stick them together.

“As much as I’d love to be stuck with you like this forever,” said Aziraphale, pressing a kiss against Crowley’s temple. “I think I ought to clean you up.”

“Aziraphale?” he asked, watching the round arse walk away and was rewarded with a soft, inquiring sound. “I do love you. Beyond the - y’know, the mind-blowing sex.”

“I love you as well, darling,” said Aziraphale, sliding a wet towel over his body. “Would you - that is - could I stay with you tonight. I’d hate the thought of leaving you.”

“As long as you want,” said Crowley, settling against Aziraphale’s chest when he slid into bed beside him. “And tomorrow - can we do it all over again? Can I get my hands on your glorious arse this time?”

Aziraphale laughed and nuzzled his nose into Crowley’s hair, “Of course, love. Only if you think you can handle me riding you dry.”

With a comfortable hum, Crowley tightened his grip around the plush man and Aziraphale responded in kind, running a hand down the lean muscles until they were both sated and asleep, dreaming of their next adventure - and the rest of their lives.


End file.
